In Her Hands
by TheDonutMistress
Summary: Ashe looked down at her hands. A queen with such dirty hands? But was there any other way? Takes place very shortly after the Phon Coast. Angst and much over analyzing, my favorite.


_I don't own any of the Final Fantasy XII characters or anything else._

_A/N: Written by request, for someone wouldn't quit bugging me about writing a FF XII fic. XD I'm sorry there aren't more words for "hands." It's made parts of this devastatingly repetitive. :(_

_EDIT: STUPID EFFING DUSK SHARD vs DAWN SHARD! XD So...I totally had it wrong before. Has been fixed. Credit Mazzie May for noticing._

_No warnings, really, just SPOILERS for the Phon Coast and some very, very minor AshexBalthier-ness._

* * *

When she stumbled, he took her hand. He told her more about himself in those few moments than he had the entire time they'd known each other. Although, as was often the case with Balthier, he left Ashe with more questions than answers and slipped out of sight before she could even ask _most_ of them.

His last words to her had been, "You're too strong for that, Princess."

Too strong for what, exactly? Too strong to let the nethicite control her? Too strong to fail Dalmasca? Too strong to be defeated? Many she thought stronger than her had already fallen. Ashe stood alone near the beach, hands clasped together and thinking about the past. Her father, Vossler, Rasler - they were all gone. She was alone.

Ashe looked down at her hands. They were dry, her knuckles red and raw. Where there had once been blisters on her palms, the skin had healed. It was rougher now, but it had healed. She'd known how to use a sword for quite some time, but she had never imagined she would rely so heavily on the skill. There were a lot of things she never imagined she would do, skills and _people_ she would never have believed she would depend upon.

Basch and Fran stood near enough to each other for conversation, under the shade of a palm tree. Whether they were actually engaged in some sort of dialogue was anybody's guess. Ashe couldn't tell. Neither moved much, and they didn't look at each other. Instead, they both looked ahead, into the ocean. Both kept their eyes on the horizon. Steadfast and experienced and it showed. They were two who had seen, done and _endured _much and were the stronger for it. It was strength that had come for a price, and one she would most likely never know.

Ashe let her gaze fall downward once more. Her fingernails were uneven and there was dirt underneath the two that hadn't yet broken. _Two _of her nails hadn't yet broken. Both pinkies. Ashe's lips curved up into a small smile over it. She'd have thought those to be first to go. But, resilient as they'd been thus far, it was only a matter of time. They _would _break. Knowing that, Ashe was tempted to just cut them herself. File them down, make them one with the rest. But something stopped her every time. She just couldn't bring herself to do it. That which could remain pure in such dark times, that which could remain whole when it seemed everything else was breaking - who was she to destroy it?

Ashe could hear Vaan and Penelo further down the beach. The girl giggled and squealed and there were half-hearted shouts of, "Don't you dare, Vaan!" while he chased her. They'd hardly gotten their feet wet, but Ashe figured they'd both end up soaked, and sooner, rather than later.

They were...cute, for lack of a better word. Vibrant, young, full of promise. Although, their true purpose on this voyage was a mystery to her even now - Penelo's especially - Ashe felt a little brighter in their presence.

She ghosted her fingertips over her ring finger. The skin there was still smooth, kept safe under the cover of her wedding ring, protected by Rasler - rather, her devotion to him - until very recently.

Balthier had betrayed no emotion when he asked for the ring. He didn't let on for a second that it might bother him to demand a widow's wedding band as collateral. Didn't he realize she had no one else to turn to? Nothing else to give?

Now _that_, he probably did realize. Ashe had already given up the Dawn Shard for his life, when Ghis's sword was at his neck, and the "treasure" inside the Dynast-King's tomb didn't seem to interest him much. The Dawn Shard had found its way back to her, but that was beside the point. Balthier knew her too well already. She'd let him see, too early on, just what she would give not only to him, but _for _him. There'd be no getting the ring back, from the look of things.

But for a time, Ashe had forgotten it was gone. She thought about the sky pirate's words, just a few moments before, about cutting all ties to the past, about not running anymore. He spoke of letting go, ceasing the futile battle of holding onto that which had already been taken away. She deduced he was speaking to her as much as himself.

But what was she to become without her prince? Ashe would find out soon enough, she supposed. She would become queen, if this journey saw its proper end, if she overcame all who took her throne from her and kept it from her for so long.

She _would _become queen. Thanks to these people - these people whose hands Ashe had put her life in, and in turn, they had put their lives in hers. It all left her wondering, were hers really the hands that deserved to hold in them _all _of Dalmasca?

A queen with such dirty hands? But was there any other way?

Ashe looked forward and inhaled deeply, the smell of the sea filling her nostrils. Vaan and Penelo were now, as predicted, sopping wet. Penelo was wringing out her braids and Vaan was in front of her, hands on his hips and looking smug. Without warning, she shoved him, knocking him down on his rear. She pushed him with enough force that he rolled ass-over-head and ended up flat on his stomach. Penelo jumped up and down, triumphantly, barking out an enthusiastic and confident, "_Hah_!"

Ashe sniggered to herself. She wasn't the only one laughing, though. She glanced over to see Basch chuckling and Fran, though silent, had a hand over her mouth. It was unanimous - Vaan had gotten what he deserved. Well, _almost_ unanimous.

Ashe looked around, half-expecting to see Balthier, leaning against a tree trunk, or seated on a crate, looking suave and unaffected. She wouldn't know when or how he'd gotten there, so close to her, without her catching on. Nonetheless, he would be there, nonchalant and relaxed, as though he'd been there all along. But he was nowhere to be found.

It was a minor disappointment, though the blow was softened when Ashe realized that when she had stumbled, he was the one who took her hand.

* * *

A/N: Hope it isn't too horribly sucky and that I haven't made any big, huge, gigantic mistakes in terms of setting. Some very minor differences, I'm sure, but overall, I hope I set the scene well, and clearly. Reviews are happy and will be returned, if applicable. IE: if you've written something within a fandom I know. :)


End file.
